Because it matters. Because it matter more than everything else. And all the rest of the words.
It matters more than his leaving and not leaving, and Cath leaving, and the way Steve still hasn't left being a handful of feet inside the door, almost like he's blocking the door and any chance of Danny following her, a second time, without having thought or considered doing so. There are so many words, and too many thoughts.
Because he gets it, even if Cath really is just an old, good friend, and even if they are close, even if the sex is great, and they've known each other, what feels like, forever, it's never been more than that. Not even when she very clearly, but not forcefully, wanted it to be. Which hasn't been for a long number of years, now. It's been fun, but comfortable. Easy.
The way this isn't.
The way this trips up Steve's feet, like he's got his own pair of cement shoes and he can't help shocking and disappointing Cath, or shocking and -- and, he doesn't even know what word encompasses whatever all of that, all of what was on Danny's face, the coming and going -- to Danny. Who, at least, seems to have found his mouth, and that readily available current of angry, defensive words always in there.
"Well, I'm still here," is abjectly pointless on his tongue, even when it's what comes out. Because he is.
"I've been here almost the whole time." The whole weekend. Not counting the the Steps, the hospital, and the Wind Cliffs.
Right here. Waiting for this weekend to end. Not saying a damn thing specifically about Danny, until he was sure. Which he has no idea if was pointless, or what this even looks like to Cath now. When on the other side of professional annihilation, where he'd said it was really great, the first example she has of that is now...this.
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It matters more than his leaving and not leaving, and Cath leaving, and the way Steve still hasn't left being a handful of feet inside the door, almost like he's blocking the door and any chance of Danny following her, a second time, without having thought or considered doing so. There are so many words, and too many thoughts.
Because he gets it, even if Cath really is just an old, good friend, and even if they are close, even if the sex is great, and they've known each other, what feels like, forever, it's never been more than that. Not even when she very clearly, but not forcefully, wanted it to be. Which hasn't been for a long number of years, now. It's been fun, but comfortable. Easy.
The way this isn't.
The way this trips up Steve's feet, like he's got his own pair of cement shoes and he can't help shocking and disappointing Cath, or shocking and -- and, he doesn't even know what word encompasses whatever all of that, all of what was on Danny's face, the coming and going -- to Danny. Who, at least, seems to have found his mouth, and that readily available current of angry, defensive words always in there.
"Well, I'm still here," is abjectly pointless on his tongue, even when it's what comes out. Because he is.
"I've been here almost the whole time." The whole weekend. Not counting the the Steps, the hospital, and the Wind Cliffs.
Right here. Waiting for this weekend to end. Not saying a damn thing specifically about Danny, until he was sure. Which he has no idea if was pointless, or what this even looks like to Cath now. When on the other side of professional annihilation, where he'd said it was really great, the first example she has of that is now...this.